The Theme of Schemes
by TheCandyTerror
Summary: What is, what was, what might never be again; We are just memories now 100 themes: Skyfire/Starscream
1. Introduction

TcT: 100 themes challenge, sounded interesting. Skyfire/Starscream of course, yes ghey..you'll live. Disclaimer: obviously not mine, especially with the LA movie's interpretation of Jetfire....urg. All belongs to Hasbrororororororo, for some reason.

1. Introduction

"Skyfire, this is your new lab partner Starscream. Starscream, Skyfire." Skyfire had never felt more like a piece of scrap then at that moment. The crimson optics of this seeker seemed to pierce right into his spark, sizing him up like prey to a predator's gaze. He wanted ever so much to flinch, to convey how uncomfortable the other mech was making him. But he didn't, he couldn't, there was too much of a threat of the seeker attacking him at the first show of weakness. He instead extended his hand, a clear sign of cooperation and trust, the universal sign of a truce.

Starscream, quirked his brow, scoffed, and slapped the hand away.

"I work alone." The seeker hissed before turning on turbine and walking calmly away as though he'd just spoken to the wind.

Skyfire ignored the professor's frantic apologies on Starscream's behalf, his assurance that he could easily change partners if he wished, and how no one wanted to work with Starscream anyhow.

Skyfire only grinned in return: he liked his new partner.


	2. Relaxation

2. Relaxation

No one knew of this place, a virtual crow's nest high above the academy's vision. They were alone there, high in the solitude of space. Hardly did they speak to one another, simply arrived and tried to bury themselves in the other's armor. Transforming around the other, merging. Lying there on a platform hidden amongst the sky, lying entangled in one another, a symbiotic relationship that would simply flutter away when they returned to the rotation of their world. One's face plate buried into another's chest armor, their wings stroked by loving fingertips and a soft breeze rolled down exposed wires and circuits. They lived there, mega cycles at a time, truly existing in the nest of the skies where the truth was revealed without a single uttered word.

Both agreed words would ruin and tarnish that place.

There were no exams or expectations there, no scrutinizing optics or rumors of infidelity.

There was the gentle breeze and the one they loved, and that was enough.


	3. Light

3. Light

The glisten of metal wings filled Skyfire's mind, simply a memory of how those painted red wings once would spin and curl in the sky, land before him, and the seeker would transform and tackle him, hold him as his lover. That was many years ago, now those same red wings were significantly sharper, and the shine of the day was the flame of ammo being emptied out into the bodies and machinery of those whom Skyfire cared for. The light in that seeker's optics had been beaten out; once brilliant fire crimson was dulled to rust, a slow crawling shell of what he used to be. It infuriated and pained Skyfire to see his once beloved friend in such shambles. To see him harm others, and be harmed by others and not be able to do anything to stop it or save him, to spare him of this unimaginable pain. It wasn't easy to hide his sympathy for the seeker: half the base knew he was still in love with the deadly being who most had only known as a foe. Their commander was the only one that seemed to grasp the pain Skyfire was going through.

At this point he'd grit his teeth and bare it: ignore the slurs and bullets his "comrades" slung at his once lover and pretend it didn't wound him. To watch the red spirals of smoke barrel out of some new injury caused on the seeker. To do nothing to help as they were chased off and listen as his "side" cheered their almost success at murdering the person Skyfire loved most in the world.

Skyfire kept trying to remind himself of the light that once shone off Starscream's optics when he would say "I love you" so many years ago…but now even that light was beginning to dull.


	4. Memory

11. Memory

I miss his touch the most. They way his arms would engulf me, creating a world all our own no matter where we were. I miss the familiar and comforting warmth that was always attached to him, his white armor and form like a furnace that kept the ice in my spark at bay when we recharged. I miss his piercing optics; the bits of space cut from the midday sky and shaped into orbs. His beautiful sky blue optics that I could stare into for hours: and want nothing more then to wrap myself into the oblivion of his stare and never exist elsewhere again. At night, now, in the darkest of moments, when the frigid air of twilight creeps under my alloy plating, I make the mistake of pretending he's here with me. He's here and the second my body shivers from the cold he'd wake up and pull me into his kiln like embrace, and there would be no such thing as cold when he interlocked our hands at my chest.

Megatron's body is frigid at night. His pallor plating seems to absorb the cold and shield his sleeping form in ice. I can barely touch him or be touched by him when he is like this. It's not the same; it doesn't take away the memory of his smile, his gentle optics, or his touch. His touch which was long ago branded in heat, seared onto my motherboard for all time. I try to forget, distract, pretend, but even when I have what I claim to want…Megatron's attention, Megatron's affection, Megatron's chest-lips-touch: I still can only close my optics and imagine blue skies and a warm smile.

I grin, laying here beside my lord, watching his strong body rise and fall with each angry grinding air intake, and wonder if Megatron can feel the remnants of Skyfire's touch still lingering on my armor. Can Megatron taste Skyfire's lips stained on my own? Each time he says "you're mine" does my dear emperor hear in the back of his processor Skyfire whispering:

"Too late"


	5. Eyes

37. Optics

Skyfire didn't care what everyone else said; no seekers had the same colored optics. Yes, they were all red, yes, sometimes it was near impossible to tell the difference, but in the end he always found variations. Considering that his new research partner was a seeker (strange enough considering Starscream was at the Academy science division, without his brothers) it was starting to become a hobby of his to try and spot the differences between seeker optics. The first time he'd been caught staring at a group of seekers he thought they were going to eat him, but upon explaining his reasons they all seemed to smirk and become amused by such inquiry; even going as far as to ask him what color their optics were. This lead Skyfire to the hypothesis that only seekers were supposed to notice the differences in the colors; strange he thought. It wasn't too long before the scientist began to take notes, a pale shade here, a odd marking there, it was really quite fascinating how many variations of red there were or how similar colors in optics could be twisted with speckles or shades, it was fun and the few seekers he became friends with were more then excited to hear about his findings.

Though it was those three whom interested him the most as their optics were perhaps the most defined of all seekers.

Skywarp's optics were the color of insanity, an almost pink and twisted, sharp glint of red as he smirked and grinned. Those optics incited, perhaps not fear, but nervousness in the shuttle and set his armor into shivers. Skywarp had always made him slightly tense, uncertain what the little seeker's intentions were and did not want to find out in a painful way. Thundercracker's optics were the color of ruin. Rust, dark, dank, almost soulless: reminiscent of the rust that crept over toppled cities and dead forms. The rust that clung to walls of empty homes long since abandoned, and the dried energon of fallen heroes who could fight no more…Thundercracker didn't' scare him like Skywarp did. He thought they had a pretty decent relationship, especially since he'd helped the trine's youngest out from the oxygen ducts where he'd gotten stuck many a times due to Skywarp. He also didn't mind helping the blue seeker with his work, not to imply Thundercracker was slow, he was just easily distracted by recharge and blowing things to slag. Though Skywarp didn't approve when anyone, save for his self, tried to spend more then a mega cycle with his baby brother. So they had little time together, but Skyfire still felt as though the youngest seeker could be considered a friend.

Last but not least was the optics that haunted Skyfire's moment, waking or not. Starscream did not have red optics, when he shared this discovery with his few seeker companions they all thinned their various colored optics and asked him to go on. Starscream's optics were not red, nor optics, they were flame, fire, destruction. Not the madness that comes before, not the emptiness that follows after, but war and bloodshed at its peek, the climax. Looking into Starscream's optics for too long and one would assume they were trapped in some ancient war where flames consumed the world and rancid energon painted every inch of life. His optics moved, shone, crept about as though alive all their own; like flames trapped behind circular glass: it was the only way to describe it. When he stared into Starscream's optics, during class, during lab, even when the seeker permitted the other to suffer his company on rare occasions, Skyfire couldn't help but notice how alive and violent they were.

They were deadly optics.

He couldn't help but adore them.

"Skyfire," The bitter and sharp voice pulled the larger mech from his mind, meeting those flame optics which were set in a decidedly thin glare. Starscream's face plate was too dark; it only emphasized and framed the madness of his optics.

"Yes?" He spoke, flustered that he'd dazed off in mid experiment. Starscream tilted his head slightly; dark cast of shadow engulfing his face, causing his optics to glow.

"Your optics; I like them."


	6. Two Roads

Two Roads

_"I shall be telling this with a sigh_

_Somewhere ages and ages hence:_

_Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,_

_I took the one less traveled by,_

_And that has made all the difference."_

-"The Road Not Taken"

-Robert Frost

Kaon was theirs, indisputable and untouchable, even the Elitist soldiers of the Senator couldn't keep a hold of their precious city. The fool Sentinel was dead and now a throne for his new Lord to oversee their slowly growing empire.

But it wasn't enough.

The feeling crept up in battle against other fliers, the clean framed but bulky attempts at aerial forces that the Council could throw at them. Poor excuses for fighters, little more then space crafts with guns welded on their hulls and a quick prayer they at last could get one shot in. While the guns were powerful their speed and lack of comfort with the weapons ruined their chances at any sort of easy victory. At most the laser would slice through the air wherein the seekers easily could avoid. This was Skywarp's favorite game, slithering about in the sky , pretending to be in danger of damage, and vanishing before their foe's eyes. Only to reappear inside the bulky ships, tearing them apart until the sky was engulfed in flames. Thundercracker just shot them down, little tact and talent to his destruction, but effective and quick. Starscream was the one with the glamour to his kills. Twisting in the sky, turning them around, causing them to destroy one another. His speed and thrusters bending missiles away from his comrades and into the bodies of the enemy. Sharp wings cutting through hulls, opening up the sides of the foolish carrier mechs who dared to think they could keep up let alone be a challenge to him. Watching the bodies of the non fliers tumbling down to the surface as they flailed, perching in the wreckage of a once proud building as the now wingless, hopeless victims of his talents screamed as they burned and dropped from his sky; like swatted insects of other worlds.

It almost satisfied him.

Megatron rewarded vicious nature, gave praise and compliments to his trine ganging up on one strong enemy, clutching to spine, arms, and chest, tearing them apart piece by piece and escaping before the body could erupt in fire. Megatron applauded Skywarp's cruelty, snatching up young soldiers and warping them in a missile's path, sparing damage on their grounds. The new Emperor grinned at Thundercracker hurling the weak fliers into buildings, into the surface, and into their own men. Megatron enjoyed most when Starscream clung to the enemy and dragged them through the skies at such speeds, when he stopped, their bodies simply fell apart: their sparks already dim.

Through all the praise and adoration, fear earned from their comrades, there was still moments where the smirking, spoiled, and cruel Trine leader would stop and stare out into the red skies of a fading battle. Of the retreating forms of their enemies on the horizon as they clambered to collect their wounded, how one or two would glance back at him, shake their heads, and continue their escape. Eyes of enemies that once were the immature bot who sat in front of him at the academy, who borrowed his notes when they were absent. The same shame filled optics of those who had warned Skyfire not to become "too involved with a seeker", who were probably glad the other was dead so he didn't have to be proven wrong. There were times when Starscream was a death dealer, a deity of destruction in the air, ruling his domain with an iron fist and deadly intent.

Then there were other times were he would sit in the destruction that had stained the city streets and wonder if he'd made the right choice, if this was his fate. He kicked the decapitated helms of enemies and teammates around in a macabre game, brushed dried energon blood off his turbines, and watched the sky of smoke filled black wondering how he'd gotten to this point. Then sometimes he would imagine a soft voice, asking him "why" and "how could you do this" ? A white body and blue optics too pure to be believed, staring at him through the patches in the smoke that shone with the burning flames of ships and buildings they'd destroyed, pitiful expression and pathetic voice begging this not to be true.

Starscream crushed in the dull blue glass of a foe's eyes with a sharp heel as he stared down the path of destruction and death, glittering red in the distant fire. Regret was pointless, he thought, his road had been chosen the day Skyfire was gone.

* * *

TcT: .....Hi everyone!


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